


& one day you will stop running

by okayhotshot



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Campaign: Fantasy Gothic Dumpster Fire, Canon, Curse of Strahd, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayhotshot/pseuds/okayhotshot
Summary: You're always running.And it's exhausting, but you don't know how to stop. It's all you've ever known. Run from trouble. Run from failure. Run from certainty because certainty means you can lose. Run and never stop because it seems like the only solution. Maybe if you run fast enough, fate and it’s cruel intentions won't ever catch up to you again.





	& one day you will stop running

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi guys! Just a little something from my D&D campaign! Hope you enjoy!

_**You don't know how to feel.** _

You've always been the strong one. Your sister was the soft one. She always took things harder and wore her heart on her sleeve. You are the brimstone, standing hard and steady against the weathering winds of life, and you knew your sister’s softness would be her downfall, but you didn't know it would be yours as well.

But fate has a funny, sickening way of proving you wrong. And maybe you should have known that. Maybe you should have known that fate isn't kind, and this world is even less so. You are surprised, however, when something intervenes and changes your life forever.

You never knew your father. He ran sometime after your sister was born. Leaving your mother and you, no more than five, as the head of the household. Your mother was a harsh woman. She had been weathered by the winds of fate for far too long. She rarely contributed to the funds, and most of her free time was spent at the tavern down the street. So it was you and your sister. You made things work. You learned how to steal, how to talk to people, and by age eleven you were probably better off alone than most adults ever are. But it's the same year that fate sweeps in.

In a rare instance, your mother is home. She's drinking herself away in the confines of her bedroom, and you don't care. You haven't bothered to care what she does for a long time. But then something shifts in the air. You hear blood curdling screams emerge from outside and panic rises in your heart. You grab your sister without much thought and barricade yourself in the other bedroom.

You hear your mother talking with someone. Yelling and slurring her words. You don't hear a response but you do hear a clank of metal and then everything goes quiet. You quickly run to the storage cupboard and you pull out your father’s old sword. You're not entirely sure how to use it, but you're going to try.

What happens next, happens so fast that you don't know how you could have stopped it. Your sister, who has yet to learn what kind of person her mother really is, has fled the safe place to try and find her. And panic rises in you. You follow her out into the main room of your small house, and you stumble a little under the weight of the unfamiliar weapon. You see your mother on the floor. She's dead, surrounded by a pool of her own blood. And this is one time you know you should feel something normal, but all you feel is relief.

Your sister is next to her, kneeling in the ever-growing pool of blood, with a tear streamed face, shaking her mother, almost like she's trying to will her back to life. So you have to grab her arm, and yank her up. You don't want to interrupt her mourning, but the stench of smoke reaches your nose, and you know that whoever came here must have set the house ablaze.

Just as you're moving to pull her away, a beam falls from the ceiling, and lands almost directly on her. She falls to the ground underneath it’s weight, and you know, that despite the fact she's survived this long is a miracle.

She coughs up a sickening amount of blood, and you feel like something has pierced your heart. She's been your only friend and companion for six years. She's the only person you trust. She's the only person that understands. How can you lose her?

You reach up a shaking hand and push dark hair from her face, offering her a half-hearted smile. And she only whispers one thing: “Go”.

And you know deep down that there's no saving her, and the flames are engulfing the building at an alarming rate. You hesitate, because how can you leave your sister behind? How can you let her die alone? But you know that maybe this isn't the end for you, and you nod. You kiss your sister’s forehead and get up, taking only the clothes on your back and the sword you are wielding.

Once you reach the door, you take one look back at your sister, very near death, and you take a deep, shuddering breath and you take off running. And you don't stop. You still haven't stopped.

**_You don't know how to feel._ **

Or maybe you just don't let yourself anymore. You thought that being on your own would be easy, and perhaps it would have been, if you had gotten the chance to find out. You're only on the run for a couple of days before someone finds you, covered in soot and your sister’s blood, starving and thirsty. So you don't object when they lead you to a building. You think it might be a tavern, but once inside you realize what a grave mistake you've made. You've stepped foot into an orphanage.

You don't **_need_** anyone. You don't **_deserve_** anyone.

The only person you cared about is gone, and you're on your own. That's how it should be. You've had time to think about what happened in the days following the incident. There was no saving your mother even if you had the desire to do so. But, you're thinking now, that maybe, you could have at least tried to save your sister. Perhaps you could have moved the beam, tried to stop the bleeding, or at the very least **_stayed_** with her. She spent her last moments alone, choking on a mixture of smoke and her own blood. And you can't think of fate that could be worse. That's the end that's saved for the cruelest types of people, the kind that beat their children and gods only knows what else.

You aren't in the orphanage for very long, which is a good thing. You find yourself fighting with the other children and causing a scene. But a family takes you in. You don't remember their name now. It doesn't matter. They don't deserve to be remembered at all, but especially not by you.

The first night you're in their house, big and extravagant, you think things might be okay. They give you a bed. An actual bed. And you're so exhausted, you sleep without dreams or nightmares for the first, and probably the only other time, since you can remember. You haven't had a night like that since.

It isn't long before their true colors start to show. They have other children who they put first, which would be fine if they treated you with any respect at all. They rarely feed you, and keep you locked away in a room that the other children call the “disappointment room” and when you do come out, they dress you up and paint your face to parade you around, boasting about what good people they are for taking you in when you had nowhere else to go.

They never hit you, but you think they might. They yell and scream and demand and you can't take it. So one day, you start running again. And this time you don't look back.

**_You don't know how to feel, and now you know why._ **

Because every time you try, you fall short. You're too insecure, too fragile around the edges, and you can’t manage to hold together even a friendship much less anything else. There's a string of lovers that you never let get too close, and you think maybe Ari will change that, but he doesn't. Fate keeps showing you how cruel it can be, and just how destined you are to be alone.

So you continue with a life of crime. Putting on disguises and personas over and over again, never letting anyone know the real you. You bury who are underneath crumbling brimstone and it isn't easy, but you manage. It’s better than the alternatives. It's better than caring for someone and watching as they slip through your fingers, and it’s better than getting hurt.

But the whirlwind adventure with Ari, no matter how messy it may have been, sparks something in you. You would never admit it out loud, but you've always been looking for a way to make up for the mistake you made with your sister, and you realize that maybe you can do that by helping people.

When you first meet the party, it only consists of Verona, Nizana, Adven, and Karui. Micah comes soon after you do.They are more than welcoming, and after awhile you even divulge your real name because lying is exhausting and you know that you won't be leaving this group anytime soon. And maybe, **_just_** **_maybe_** , you regard them as friends.

**_You don't know how to feel, because you're staring at an actual ghost but you feel as if you're staring at one from your past._ **

As soft as your sister was, she knew when to stand her ground, and she was full of sass and sarcastic remarks, and well, Rosavalda Durst is nowhere near short on any of that. And your heart aches for her in so many ways. Maybe because you see your sister in her, or maybe because you see so much of yourself. Rose is brimestone, strong and steady, and ready for the storm. She met a fate far too terrible for you to even imagine, and you **_care_** and you want to help her. But when you get down to it, Rose is much stronger than you, much braver, because unlike you, she didn't run. She stood her ground. And you think that maybe, despite fate being so cruel to her and her brother, that it still counts.

And Anya. Anya is the closest thing you've ever had to a mother. She dotes on the entire party, and she doesn't seem to despise you for your shortcomings. She means well, and tries her best to teach you things that will help you. And you find yourself calling her “mom” like the rest of the group, and you wonder, for a moment, if this is what having a family feels like.

**_You don't know how to feel, because you've never felt this emotion before. Or at the very least, it's been a long time._ **

You don't trust Barovia. You never trust anyone or anything. It's your downfall. So you've been going around the village, introducing yourself with one of your identities, and as exhausting as it is, you feel a bit better about it. So much has been going on lately, you feel like the walls you built around yourself have been tumbling down and then the real you will be revealed, and you don't want that. The group needs you strong. Rose, and Thorn, and Anya need you strong. You cannot break. You cannot become the broken woman that is hiding within the depths of you.

You want to trust your friends, your family, but you don't know how. You don't know how to let people in, and it hurts because it constantly feels like you're keeping them at an arm's distance. You run from fights and run from emotions. **_You're always running._**

And it's exhausting, but you don't know how to stop. It's all you've ever known. Run from trouble. Run from failure. Run from certainty because certainty means you can lose. Run and never stop because it seems like the only solution. Maybe if you run fast enough, fate and it’s cruel intentions won't ever catch up to you again.

And trust. Trust means standing still. It means letting people in and opening up yourself for hurt, but you know, deep down, that you've already crossed that line with the party, and the brimstone is slowly crumbling down. And you're trying in vain to stop the inevitable avalanche that's coming for you.

That's why meeting Ismark Kolyanovich is so strange to you. The exhaustion is there. (It always is). And something, you can't quite put your finger on what, lets you let your guard down, ever so slightly. Maybe it's the kindness dancing in his eyes, maybe it's pure curiosity, but you introduce yourself with your real name for the first time in over a decade.

You instantly feel compelled to help him. You **_feel_** for him, which is strange, because you rarely feel empathy anymore. But his plight involves a sister, and he wants so desperately to save her. How could you say no? You may not have been able to save your own sibling, but maybe you can help Ismark save his.

**_You don't know how to feel, or rather what to feel. You're overwhelmed with anger and pain and a sadness that you can't push away._ **

And for the first time, you break. You fall apart in the foyer of the burgermeister's mansion, tear stained cheeks, broken voice and all. Despite everything you've tried, the mountain of brimstone has fallen apart completely, revealing the fragile earth beneath it.

You don't remember exactly what comes out of your mouth, or what leads you to have the conversation that you do. In fact, you don't even remember Ismark joining you on the floor, and you definitely don't remember resting your head on his shoulder.

“But you **_are_** brave,” he insists.

“I don't feel that way,” you remember sniffling, trying your best to pull yourself together, but deep down, you know it's of no use. “I'm not like the rest of the group. I'm not like you or Ireena. I run from everything. That's what cowards do.”

Ismark shakes his head, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, and there's a kind of sadness in his voice as he speaks again. “I'm not that brave.”

“At least you had the gall to save your sister!” you sob before burying your face in your hands. You can feel all the eyes in the neighboring room on you, but you don't care. For once, you **_don't care_** that you're feeling.

The silence in the room is almost deafening. You're so glad when Ismark breaks it with his next comment. “I haven't saved her yet.”

You **_do_** look up at him this time, and your voice is so soft that it’s barely above a whisper, but with each word it gets louder. “At least you're trying. I...I just left her. I left her there to die alone. There was so much blood and he house was burning and I didn't know what to do.”

Everything that happens after that feels like a blur, except for a fleeting moment when Ireena is kneeled before you, talking about redemption and second chances, and you want to believe her, but you're sure you're far past the point of deserving a second chance.

**_You don't know how to feel because you can communicate in several different ways, but you've never met anyone that seemed to speak a similar language as you do._ **

And maybe you're wrong about that, but Ismark seems like he's been holding a lot of what he spills to you in, and you understand. He blames himself for things so far out of his control, and thinks so little of himself. Less, he says. He's always been less. You want to prove him wrong.

You know from experience that words aren't always enough, but you spew them out anyway. You try to assure him that it's not his fault, but again, you know from experience that assurances don't make guilt dissipate. But nonetheless, he gives you a soft smile, and you help him finish putting on the armor, and in a moment of bravery, or perhaps it’s actually weakness, you push yourself up onto the tips of your toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can do this. And you hope he realizes it, too.

**_You don't know how to feel because so much is on your mind. It’s swirling with possibilities and fear._ **

What did all of those fortunes mean? What about Nizana and dark forces? And yourself and sunlight and bravery? None of it makes sense and you hope, in time, that they will. You somehow think something Madam Eva said holds the key to your salvation, the very thing that will save you all.

Once again, you wish you were better at this. Better at life, better a friendships, better at **_standing still._** You don't know how to be still. You're still running, hoping that something far greater (and probably more cruel) than you can imagine will never catch up.

**_You don't know how to feel, but you feel so much._ **

Mostly anger. How could Nizana be so stupid? Keeping secrets is putting the entire party in danger and you won't stand for it.

You remember how you snapped at Micah at breakfast. **_How many times do I have to tell you that I don't know how to have a family? You'd all probably be better off without me anyway._** It's not his fault, it's not anyone's fault but your own. This is your hang up, your problem. And you just wish you could let them in, because you **_care_**. And you don't remember the last time you **_cared_**.

Then there's fear, an uncertainty that even you have never faced. You've always wondered where you would sleep the next night or when you would get your next meal, but you always knew, somehow, you would make it out alive. You no longer have that luxury.

And your thoughts are still swirling. They have been ever since you left the fortune teller's tent. It's funny, you think, in a way. That apparently the sunlight is going to be what saves you, redeems you, because you've always been fonder of the night, desperate to swim in a sea of stars and float through galaxies. But maybe this is something you've always needed.

There's a moment when your mind stops racing long enough for you to listen. You aren't sure if anything is actually outside or not. If there is, it's nothing like the night you spent at the mansion. All you can hear is slow, steady breathing, a light snore from Micah. And everything feels calm, but you know it won't last.

You're eyes sweep the room, over your sleeping friends before they settle on Ismark and Ireena. The girl, with wild hair and an even wilder heart, is fast asleep, and you're glad. She must be exhausted since this has been her life for weeks now. And then your eyes find him. And you feel a strange twinge in your chest as you remember your conversation with him back at the mansion. How he's always lived in his father's shadow, how he has always been the **_lesser_**. You know he's more. Somehow you know, and you feel an overwhelming desire to help him see that. A desire that you aren't sure you even want to understand. But then you remember what Madam Eva said.

**_My child, you have been running for a very long time. One day, you still stop running and when you do, it will be the bravest moment of your life._ **

It's true. **_Gods_** , is it true. One day you ran, and you never stopped running. You run from everything. Feelings, places, jobs, and people. ** _Good fucking people_** that care about you, and want you to be happy. And you're still trying to run. But this time, there's no way out.

Too late you realize that your gaze has lingered on the handsome blonde, and Ismark catches your eye. For a moment, you think about looking away, but you don't. There's something there, some sort of spoken understanding, and you simply nod.

And he takes your hand.

You don't know **_how_** you're supposed to feel. But you **_do_** feel.

For the first time since you stepped foot in this god forsaken land, you feel safe, and you don't understand, but maybe you're not supposed to understand. Maybe you don't always have to make sense of everything. And you're far from comfortable, miles away from being content, but you feel warm and fuzzy and **_safe_**.

So you just let it be. You let your fingers wrap around his, a slow, wordless, almost intricate dance unfolds as they weave together and his hands are large and warm and **_safe_**.

And for the first time, you don't know **_how_** to feel but you do anyway.


End file.
